


Equals

by Van



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Van/pseuds/Van
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Vila wants is so much more than revenge. (Post-Gauda Prime)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equals

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ user crycraven who won my bid on the 2008 livelongnmarry charity auction. Among her requests were Avon/Vila PGP, with lots of kissing and BJs, set from Vila's POV. It kicked my ass a bit, but I hope you enjoy it. Betaed by babel.

It took some patience, but Vila managed to have the nozzle of his blaster situated right between Avon’s eyes when he finally woke up. Avon saw the gun, saw it was Vila, but he didn’t start in surprise. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t even arch his eyebrow in that wounded way of his—something Vila had feared he might do. It was much easier to stay angry at Avon’s blank face. 

“I’ve just three questions for you,” Vila said, finding his voice. To his relief, his gun hand did not waver.

Avon’s eyes did not focus on the gun, nor did they lift to meet Vila’s gaze. In no way did he acknowledge Vila’s words. If his eyes hadn’t opened and flashed with recognition moments ago, Vila would have thought he was still asleep. 

Swallowing against the tightness in his throat, Vila focused on his anger and asked his first question. “Do you know what happened to the others?” He had rehearsed this in his head so many times it seemed unreal to be finally acting it out.

Avon’s expression did not change. His gaze fixed at a point on Vila’s left shoulder and the silence stretched on.

Vila grit his teeth. He had expected _something_. He took the silence to mean Avon didn’t know, and forged on. “They’re all dead.” A tremor shook the hand holding the gun and he steadied the butt of the weapon with his left as well. “Because of you.” He swallowed hard. “Tarrant was in a coma for six months. He died yesterday.”

Avon didn’t even bat an eyelash. It was both unnerving and infuriating. A cold bead of sweat trickled down Vila’s back, and it was all he could do not to stretch and itch it. He took a calming breath and struggled to remember the order of his questions.

“Know why I lived?” Again, Avon did not react. He blinked slowly, but his gaze did not shift, nor did he respond. Could Avon even hear him? “I was wearing a blast vest.” Vila clenched his jaw, and then forced himself to relax it. “Had been, since Malodaar.” In the rehearsals in his head, Avon had remained stoic up until that line. It was the mention of Malodaar that always brought on the wounded eyebrow, but real life was unraveling things different. 

Avon hadn’t even blinked.

By now, Vila imagined Avon knew what the last question would be. That he wasn’t trying to avoid it was confounding. Vila had expected either cold arrogance or wounded pity from Avon. He knew Avon well and had worked out the likely reactions to his questions a million times, but Avon wasn’t playing along at all. 

It didn’t matter though—Vila had come too far and suffered too much not to ask all three. 

Very deliberately, Vila moved his thumb, switching the gun’s charge up to level five. It gave an ominous whine as it powered up. As cold as he could muster, Vila said, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

Avon remained silent. 

Vila counted his heartbeats as they pounded in his ear. The finger on the trigger felt exceptionally heavy, and he wasn’t sure what he would do when he reached one-hundred.

At forty-two, Avon’s eyes shifted off Vila’s shoulder to meet his gaze and it all suddenly became clear. Vila understood Avon’s silence: Avon had known from the beginning where this line of questioning was headed and had intentionally remained silent. The impact of that realization made the gun dip off its target. Killing Avon would be a _mercy_ —he was _welcoming_ it.

“Explains the posh cell,” Vila whispered. After swallowing, he said, more clearly, “How very Servalan, making you live the life of luxury when everyone else is dead because of you.” 

Avon looked away from him, as if suddenly disinterested. “I don’t want to you to become like me.”

“So you _can_ speak,” Vila said, automatically. It was seconds later that he processed the words and the deadened tone Avon had spoken them in. It was perhaps the only answer that could have affected him. It sent a chill creeping up his spine. He tightened his grip on the blaster. “Get up.” 

Avon glanced back at him, some of that insufferable smugness returning to his eyes. Undoubtedly, even as broken as he was, the thought of obeying Vila’s orders was too much for him to ignore.

“I said, get up.”

“Or else you’ll shoot me?” Avon gave a few seconds for his meaning to sink in before he pushed himself up into a seated position. Vila stepped back and despite those words he kept his gun trained on its target. Avon swung his legs over the edge of the bed, raising a hand to rub at his neck. “How much are they paying you?”

“What?”

He fixed his gaze on the ground. “The rebellion. They must have sent you. I would like to know how much I’m worth to them dead.”

“No one sent me.” Avon looked up at him in that truth-assessing way of his. Vila held his ground, but found it difficult to meet those eyes he had been so fond of once. “Capable of doing things on my own, you know.”

“Very well,” Avon said, pushing to his feet with a heavy sigh. “I am up. Shall I put my hands on my head as well?”

Vila shrugged. “They’re your hands.” He nodded toward the door. “Move.”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Had other plans, did you?”

“Finishing my nap had crossed my mind.”

“Get moving.”

“May I at least put on a pair of trousers?”

Vila allowed his eyes to sweep over Avon’s legs, which _were_ rather exposed beneath the loose maroon tunic he was wearing. It seemed a safe enough request. “Make it quick.”

“How generous,” Avon practically growled as he struggled into a black pair of trousers. He pulled on dark shoes, as well.

“Now open the door.” Vila stepped behind him, maintaining a safe distance. “It’s unlocked now.”

Avon’s face went steely, but he turned the doorknob. “This is an amusing way to commit suicide, Vila.”

He suppressed the chill that threatened to course through him, hearing Avon speak his name. “There’s no one out there.”

The muscles in Avon’s jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth and pushed open the door. The corridor beyond was quiet and empty. “And an even more amusing rescue mission.”

“Rather stay in your gilded cage?” 

Avon grimaced. “Which way?”

“Straight on, for now.”

When they reached an intersection, Avon drew up short. “This would go considerably faster if I didn’t have a blaster trained on my back.”

“You don’t: it’s trained on your head.”

“How reassuring.”

“Afraid I’ll shoot you? Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I’m afraid you _won’t_. I’m not sure how much more of this laconic drivel I can stand.”

Vila forged ahead. “Go left down the next corridor.”

Avon obeyed, moving cautiously and kept close to the wall despite Vila’s assurance they were alone. “How did you get this far without alerting the guards?”

“Funny thing about Federation guards,” Vila said, not looking at Avon, “don’t take much to pay them off.” He took off down the corridor. When he turned back to see if Avon was following him, he found Avon still in place, staring at him in that peculiar way of his. He ignored the memories that threatened to reemerge.

“Come into wealth, have you?” 

“Come into other people’s, more like,” Vila said. “I am a thief, you know!” He jerked his head. “Don’t just stand there. Those other people’s money only bought me so much time.”

Avon sneered but followed him. When he was close again, he said, “I assume you some way off this planet?”

“Didn’t plan to die here with you, that’s for sure.” He drew up short, putting a hand against Avon’s chest to stop him. The flesh was warm and solid beneath the fabric, and Vila pulled his hand away again, perhaps too quickly. “It’s through that door a ways. Won’t take me but a second.” He crossed, pulled a thin tool from his sleeve and had it unlocked in a manner of seconds. Avon slipped through and Vila closed the door after him.

They were in a poorly lit corridor that ran under the facility. It led to a transport park, where Vila had left his three-man transport ship. 

“Not very inconspicuously hidden,” Avon said, eyeing the transport nestled between several others.

“In a place like this, in plain sight _is_ the best camouflage.” It wasn’t until Vila had the door unlocked and open that he realized he’d put his back to Avon and his gun in its holster. He spun around quickly, drawing the weapon.

Avon put his hands up, defenseless. “Jumpy, aren’t you?”

“Have reason to be, wouldn’t you say?” Vila gestured with the nozzle. “Get in there.”

“Cozy.” Avon settled down on one of the two passenger seats.

“Shut up,” Vila growled. How could he have let his guard down so easily? He couldn’t let old fondness rule his actions now; things had changed too much. Forgetting that would be welcoming death. Angry at himself for showing weakness, Vila quickly pressurized the cabin and started the ignition sequence.

“No crew?” 

“Safer alone, isn’t it?” Vila snapped. “And I said shut up.” As the ship powered up, Vila pulled a coil of nylon rope out from under the pilot seat. “Put out your hands.”

Avon raised an eyebrow, but did as instructed. “Do you really think I’m going to attack you?”

Vila had to put his gun away to lash Avon’s hands together, but it seemed a fair trade. He was still not fond of weapons. “Maybe it isn’t me I’m worried about.”

Avon fell silent until Vila finished. The knots were strong and Vila was confident Avon couldn’t get out of them without help. Then he reached across and pulled the safety harness over Avon’s shoulder. “Bit of a rough take off,” he explained.

He gave Avon one more look, but those dark eyes were unreadable. Turning, Vila focused on lifting off. His maintenance feeds told him no security alarm had been pulled, but it was only a matter of time before someone did. Money could buy them time, but not eternal silence.

Within five minutes, Vila had cleared the transport park and lifted off. Another five minutes had them jostling through turbulence as they breeched the atmosphere, and then the cool quiet of space washed over them. Vila let out his breath in relief, though he knew with Avon on board he was far from safe. Flipping a few switches, he set some random coordinates and engaged the autopilot. 

“It seems we’ve made a clean get away,” Vila announced, feeling a strange need to be overly loud now that they were truly alone. He swiveled in his chair and found Avon staring out the porthole, a distant look in his eyes.

“You should have left me there.”

“Probably. Bit late for that now, though.”

Avon looked away from the window, glancing around the interior of the ship. Beyond the passenger area there was a three-person cabin that Vila had modified into a single bedroom, an en suite toilet and a liquid protein processor. All together, it was just barely bigger than one of their cabins back on Liberator had been. “Not a very large craft,” Avon said.

“Don’t want to draw attention to myself.”

Avon swept his eyes over the single other passenger seat before settling on Vila. “It is not much bigger than a shuttle craft.”

A cold chill crept over Vila, but he held Avon’s gaze. “And the airlock works too, if you’re wondering.”

Somewhat listless, Avon resumed looking out the window. “That would be appropriate.”

Vila clenched his jaw. “Thought you wouldn’t want me to become like you. Isn’t that what you said down there?”

“Ah.” Avon looked back at him. “But I _didn’t_ actually do it.”

“Shut up,” Vila said. His grip on the armrest of his chair had grown painfully strong. Taking a calming breath, he said, “Difference is, you _wanted_ to. I’d never do at thing like that. Not even now.”

“I did not _want_ to,” Avon said. “Had I, you would now be dead.”

“Guess that means you _wanted_ to kill Blake, then.” The flash of anger in Avon’s eyes at that was startling; it was the most life Vila had seen him show since Gauda Prime. “Well, you did a real bang up job there, Avon.” That the words stung was obvious. Perhaps Vila ought to be ashamed of taking pleasure in Avon’s suffering, but it felt good to hurt Avon a fraction as much as Avon had hurt him.

After clenching his teeth for some time, Avon said in his iciest tone, “This is all very ironic, considering that _you_ are the one that broke into my quarters to ask questions with a blaster aimed at my head. It would seem you’re the one that wants to kill me.”

“Shouldn’t be surprised, really. Learned my brand of revenge from you, didn’t I?”

“If you are going to kill me, I would that you would go and get it over with.”

“Want to die that bad? Couldn’t do it in your cage so you’ll let Vila take care of it for you?”

“I suppose you find torturing me with your questions far more rewarding.”

“That’s better,” Vila said, bitter. “For a moment there, I thought I was sensing remorse.”

“I do, you know,” Avon said. Their eyes met, briefly. “Regret it, that is.”

Vila was not convinced. He’d seen Avon kill too many of his former friends, usually without batting an eye. “Do you, now.”

Avon grimaced. “Do you honestly believe that I would have risked going to Gauda Prime and losing _Scorpio_ on the off chance that Blake was there just so that I could _kill him_?” When Vila didn’t reply, Avon’s eyes narrowed. “We _needed_ Blake! _Alive_!”

“It isn’t so hard to think that’s exactly what you wanted. Not like you ever told us anything.” Vila nodded. “Not like you ever told _me_ anything.” He shook his head, letting his anger run out again. “All right, so why _did_ you do it then? Why kill Blake?”

Avon looked taken aback. “I thought he had sold us out.”

Vila scowled. “I was _there_ , Avon. He was unarmed!”

“I didn’t know that.”

“So you shot him? _Three_ times? Didn’t think just once was enough?”

Vila leaned back in his chair, controlling his breathing, but unable to stop his heart from pounding. Even this many months later, having to relive memories of Blake’s last moment was not easy. At least it didn’t seem easy for Avon, either. At last, his eyebrows had knitted and curved up, the only way Avon ever seemed to show his pain.

“I thought he had betrayed me,” Avon said, his voice much quieter. His eyes were far away. “There were alarms. We saw the Federation ship when we landed. Tarrant just confirmed it. It . . . it made _sense_ that he had sold us out.”

“ _Blake_?”

Avon lifted his face to look at Vila, but his gaze was still far off, his brows still quirked. “It was just like Anna. And Tynus and Keiller. Everyone betrays me. It was like Servalan back on Sarran: it was inconceivable she could be there, therefore she was there, therefore it had to be true.” He looked away. “Perhaps that was not thinking rationally.”

“I’ll say,” Vila said, not swayed. “Don’t think you had had a rational thought in months.”

“No,” Avon agreed, his voice rough. After swallowing, he continued. “With our luck such as it was, I did not expect things to go exactly how I had planned, but that . . . that catastrophe was beyond my ability to predict. Not just Blake, but you . . . the others . . .”

Vila sat stoic and motionless as Avon stared down at his hands. After a period of silence, when it was clear Avon wasn’t going to go on, Vila shook his head sadly. “What the hell happened to you, Avon?”

Avon shook his head. “I was . . . under considerable stress.”

It was more than that and Vila knew it. The change in Avon had been slow in coming, but Vila hadn’t realized just how bad it had got until it was too late; or perhaps he had just drowned his helplessness away. He fought down feelings of sympathy. “Dunno about stress,” he said. “I’ve seen you kill old friends for a lot less than what you thought Blake had done.”

“My friends have a nasty habit of getting themselves killed,” Avon said, rather quickly. “I hardly need to help them, anymore.”

Vila tried not to count himself as one of Avon’s friends, perhaps out of self preservation, but knew he was, or had been once. “You try telling that to Keiller.”

“I did not kill Keiller. And, to the fact, he _did_ betray me.”

The anger flared in Vila again. “ _I’ve_ never betrayed you, Avon! But that wasn’t going to stop you on that shuttle.”

Avon lifted his chin, still calm. “I would not have done it.”

“You what?”

“I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Sounded to me like you would have!”

Avon tried to gesture with his bound hands. “I had to _try_ , Vila. I couldn’t just stand there and _die_. I couldn’t accept defeat! I knew you heard me; that you would guess and that you would hide. I had . . . believed we would crash before I found you.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Vila said, unconvinced. “So I was supposed to die a fiery death just _thinking_ you wanted to murder me.” He shook his head. “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

“No,” Avon said. “Nevertheless, it is the truth.”

Vila stared at him for several seconds, looking for some telltale sign that Avon was lying: some tic of the eye or twitch of the mouth, but Avon remained motionless and resolute. The perfect lie, if it was one. Ignoring the way that tugged at his heart, Vila got to his feet and crossed the cabin. He had to get his mind off that day. “Hungry?” 

Avon followed him with his eyes, wariness evident on his face, as if he thought it were some kind of trick question. “Yes.”

“Don’t have much on a ship like this,” Vila said, retrieving two food packets. He heated them briefly in the processor, then opened the corner of one to let it steam and wedged it between Avon’s bound hands. Stirring his packet with a spoon, Vila settled back down on his chair.

“This would be easier with my hands untied.” Avon stared down at the steaming package.

“Fond of challenges, though, aren’t you?” Vila ate a spoonful of his protein and leaned back in his chair, watching as Avon struggled to suck the contents out of his bag. Given everything, it was a surprisingly rewarding sight.

Once Avon had managed to consume half of his meal, he said, “Where are we headed?”

“Wondered how long it’d take you to ask.”

“I thought it was information you might eventually volunteer.” After a few seconds of silence, Avon said, “Well?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, though if you are planning to abandon me on a desert planet to slowly roast or starve to death, I would appreciate a warning.”

“So you could stage a coup?”

Avon pressed his lips together wryly. “Perhaps.”

“Didn’t rescue you just to kill you somewhere else.” Vila turned to study his navigational readout. “Would have just killed you back in your gilded cage.”

“Only you decided you didn’t want to become like me.” Not giving time for Vila to reply to that, Avon said, “To some rebel base, then? To be paraded around as a martyr for the Rebellion?”

Vila snorted. “You? A martyr?”

“Judas, perhaps.”

“You’d probably like a parade too much, anyway.” Once he had finished checking the flight path and double locked the navigation controls, Vila turned back to Avon. “Don’t really know where we’re going, yet. Hadn’t planned on _taking_ you anywhere.”

“You had planned to kill me.”

“I did.”

“I have never planned to kill you.”

Vila glared. “Premeditated or not, and whether or not you went through with it, you were planning it on that shuttle. With the gun or just by inaction. You don’t get to play the victim, Avon. It isn’t as if you don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, I don’t deny that. It’s just . . . unexpected, for you, is all. You’ve changed.” 

“Coming from you, that’s rich.”

“So it isn’t to be death, prison or public lynching.” Avon appeared a moment contemplative. “I don’t suppose our course takes us past Freedom City, by any chance?”

Scowling at what was obviously intended to be a light-hearted suggestion, Vila got to his feet. It would be too easy to put things behind him and pretend it could be like it used to be between them. His heart ached just thinking about it. “I’m going to get some sleep.” He didn’t examine the way it felt to make Avon’s face fall at his outright dismissal.

“And me?”

“Need my permission to sleep, do you?” Vila stalked through the door that led to the only cabin on the ship. He let it slide shut behind him and then leaned heavily against it, forcing his breath to remain steady. 

It had been foolish to take Avon on board the ship. There was no way he could risk bringing him to one of the rebel bases he knew about. Not only would it be dangerous for Avon, it could bring trouble to the rebels there, too. They had made a clean get away, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be followed. It wasn’t a risk he wanted to take. Besides, Avon could betray him. He had to remember that. Avon could even be implanted with some sort of tracking device, knowingly or not. It was just too dangerous.

No, he had to take him somewhere neither of them were known. In truth, once he had proved unable to pull the trigger, Vila should have just left him there in his cell to rot. No punishment would ever be enough for the crimes Avon had committed, but that had at least been properly torturous. 

But after surviving together for so many years, it was more than a little like their fates were linked. Possessing the means to rescue him, there was no way Vila could have left him there. It wasn’t in his nature. Despite everything, he still cared too much.

Throwing himself face down on his bed, Vila groaned. What had he got himself into?  
\--

Four hours later, Vila emerged from his cabin, showered and clean, with the memory of Avon’s rescue hazy in his mind. He found the passenger hold dark and quiet, lit only by soft runners and starlight. Avon slept, wane and pale, curled up in the chair Vila had left him in. His bound wrists were now wrapped around knees that he hugged to his chest.

This sleep, it seemed, was peaceful. Though he had tried to hide it, Vila had known Avon suffered foul dreams for years; ones he would not—or could not—suppress with pills. That he would rest so calmly now seemed incredulous; had he finally killed his way to such solitude? Memory returned now of the way Avon had slept in his luxurious cell back on the planet; he had been tranquil there, as well.

Before the anger could quite manifest, Avon said, “Leave me alone.”

The voice startled Vila, made the hairs on his neck rise in surprise. Though Avon’s face was turned away from him it was darkly reflected in the cold window that looked out into the black. Vila was mirrored too, for it was at Vila’s reflection Avon was staring, and there their eyes met.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Vila said. The way Avon’s sallow gaze cut through him, even tempered by glass, was astounding. 

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Very slowly, Avon unfolded his legs and noiselessly dropped his feet back to the deck. He rolled his wrists once, then settled them in his lap. “Now leave me alone.”

“After all that time in a cage by yourself, you want to be left alone now?”

The reflection blurred as Avon looked away. “This is hardly about what I _want_.”

The cold but quick witted Avon of hours ago seemed to have gone away completely. Distantly, Vila wondered if this was some ploy to earn his trust. It would be like Avon to try such a trick to take command of the ship, or Vila. But, being left alone wouldn’t likely accomplish that. Even as talented a computer technician as Avon would have serious difficulty breaking the flight control locks Vila had set on the ship, let alone with bound hands. “Why, then?”

Avon had been staring straight ahead, but now he turned to look at Vila. His eyes, which had always been dark and expressive, were black now and seemingly empty. Acidly, he said, “Time has not endowed your brain any, I see.” When Vila did not reply, Avon asked, “Why did you rescue me?”

“Instinct, maybe.” Aware how that came across, Vila smiled coldly. “Not a very satisfying answer, is it?”

Avon turned his gaze away, to look out the window again. 

Slowly, Vila’s smile faded away. He stepped across the deck and slid into the other passenger chair opposite Avon. Putting his feet up on the foot rest, Vila stared straight ahead. “Suppose ‘why’ doesn’t matter anyway, does it? It’s done.”

“Wake me when we arrive somewhere,” Avon said. He made a big pretense of curling up again.

Vila remained seated there, in front of him. The _why_ did matter, for both the rescue and for killing Blake, but Vila wanted to pretend they didn’t. The degree that Vila was willing to pretend to have some modicum of normalcy returned to him was staggering. “You don’t dream anymore,” he said, into the quiet that had descended.

Avon remained silent, though his breathing was not that of a sleeping man’s.

“Federation got rid of your nightmares too, did they? Wanted to make sure you had the perfect time in your little paradise?”

Avon did not answer.

Vila raised his eyebrows. “No. They wouldn’t take your dreams, would they? Living in a gilded cage without knowing what horrors you’d committed wouldn’t be torture at all, would it? Well? Which is it?”

“Perhaps I just don’t sleep at all anymore.” Avon hadn’t moved, and his voice had been soft.

“That can’t be it. You were sleeping when I broke into your room. Peacefully, I’ll add.”

“Was I?” Avon glanced over his shoulder. “I was not aware it was you, but I was awake from the moment the door opened.”

Vila stared at him. “So, you want me to leave you alone now so you can go back to pretending to be sleeping, is it?”

“Yes.” Avon turned back to face the window.

Vila snorted. “Can’t argue with that logic.” He rose to his feet, crossed the hold and sat down in the pilot’s chair. 

There were any number of places they could go, but it seemed a space station would be the safest. He needed somewhere relatively safe to think. People came and went from space stations all the time; they would not likely be noticed, or missed. Changing their route, Vila sat there, his back tingling with Avon behind him.

After ten minutes of hoping Avon’s breathing would drop into that of a man at rest, Vila spun his chair around. Avon was not even pretending. “Look, do you want to go for a lie down in my cabin? At least you’d have some privacy there.”

“You’ve altered course.”

Vila blinked a few times. “Yes. Heading for a space station. Shouldn’t take too long to get there. Seemed the safest sort of place to go, all things considered.”

“Are you planning to keep me tied up there as well?”

“Suppose not. Might draw unwanted attention.” Vila frowned. “Look, Avon, it’s my life that gets lost if I untie you now and you kill me. I came at you with a gun. I know what that means for me. No, I didn’t kill you, but intent is just as real as action with you. The thought’s in my head, right? That’s all the betrayal you need.”

“It isn’t betrayal if I deserve it, Vila.”

Vila lifted his chin. “You’re just saying that so I’ll let you go.”

Baring his teeth, Avon suddenly surged out of his seat. In two long strides he had crossed the cabin and wrapped his hands, still bound at the wrist, around Vila’s throat. The grip was not as strong as it might have been were he free, but it was just as lethal. “I hardly need to be unbound to kill you.” He released Vila.

Stunned, Vila sat back in his seat, staring up at Avon.

“Let me go, Vila.” Avon held his hands out. “Please.”

Vila blinked a few more times, then got a laser probe and cut the cords. He held his breath as the nylon dropped away. 

Avon rubbed each wrist in turn. “Thank you,” he said, and then he turned around and disappeared into Vila’s cabin.

“If you kill yourself in there, I’ll never forgive you,” Vila shouted as the door slid shut. Reflectively, he added, “I’ll never forgive me, either.”  
\--

Avon did not emerge until they had landed at the space station. When he stepped out of the cabin, Vila expected him to look different; to have combed and styled his hair, to be wearing all black, for him to be _taller_. But he looked the same. If anything, he looked even more haggard.

“You ought to dump this here,” Avon said as he followed Vila down the ramp into the hanger. “It would be safer.”

“What?”

Turning, Avon gestured to the ship.

Vila’s eyebrows went up in shock. “Dump _Magdalena_?” 

Avon stared at him. “ _Magdalena_?”

Vila shrugged. “She came with the name. Couldn’t very well ask a lady to change her name for me, could I?” He shook his head, dismissively. “Why dump her, Avon?”

“As inconspicuous as you have attempted to be, it is undoubtedly an easy ship to trace.”

“I’ve made her my home! There are some risks worth taking, you know.”

“I know.” Avon caught Vila’s eye and held it. “She is one among the many not worth taking.”

Scowling, Vila said, “I’ll think about it.” He locked the ship and led the way into the space port, putting the issue out of his mind. He would book them a room first, and then get something to eat. Avon needed new clothes, too. Then he’d think about doing something actually relaxing. He could use something, even if Avon refused. “Let’s settle in. You look like you could use a good meal, if nothing else.”

“I would like a bath.”

“Didn’t have a bath in your gilded cage?”

“Oh, they did. Are we to be returning, then?”

Vila smirked, conceding. “We can get a room with a bath here. So long as you’re not planning to slit your wrists in it.”

“How proletarian,” Avon said, but his eyes still remained empty.

The woman manning the concierge was a pretty blonde. “Thought this would all be automated,” Vila said, donning a smile as he strolled up.

“We’ve got a self check-in as well, sir,” she cheerfully replied. “Only, some people prefer to see a friendly face when they arrive.” Her eyes sparkled when she smiled, and Vila was impressed how well her uniform matched their striking blue-green color. “How many nights?”

“Er, just the one, for now. It can be extended later, can’t it?”

“Of course. Is that just one room?”

“Yes, please,” Vila said. He didn’t trust Avon not to sneak off in the middle of the night. “Er, separate beds though, you know.”

“Separate beds?” She looked up from imputing the reservation. “Age of the second guest, please? Two guests over the age of twelve will enter into a slightly higher rate bracket.”

Vila stared at her, amused, before turning to gesture at Avon. “Doesn’t always act it, but this one’s an adult.” Only Avon wasn’t standing behind him anymore. 

Vila turned in the other direction, but Avon wasn’t there, either. Fear made his heart skip. Surely Avon had just been distracted by the large aquarium at the entrance, or perhaps caught in conversation with a well-meaning traveler. “Just a moment,” Vila said, fighting down the panic rising in his chest. He didn’t give the girl a second glance as he jogged back to the entrance. There was no trace of Avon.

“Excuse me,” Vila said, stepping in front of a newly arrived couple. “Did a man just go through here? He was wearing a loose fitting maroon tunic and dark trousers?”

“I think so,” the woman said. “He seemed to be in a hurry.” She pointed out the entrance, and Vila thanked them as he ran out the door.

The space port was busy and Avon had wasted no time blending himself in. Vila knew he had only been talking to the concierge for a minute at most; Avon couldn’t have gone far.

“Did a haggard looking man in maroon pass by here a moment ago?” he asked of a pair of girls loitering outside a dress shop.

Vila didn’t care how long it took--he was not going to lose Avon; not here, like this. Not after all he’d gone through to find and rescue him. Not after making himself care again.

One man thought he had seen Avon duck down a narrow street nearby, and that fit with what Vila suspected Avon would do. Avon could have easily slipped into one of the stores or other hotels in the vicinity, but Vila knew how Avon thought. Even if it might be safer, going into a building would seem too much like trapping himself. Avon would keep moving, so Vila went down the narrow street indicated, scanning the crowd as he hurried.

Unless Avon had stolen something out of Vila’s cabin, and there hadn’t been much to steal, he’d have no money. That meant he wasn’t going to ditch his tunic any time soon. It wasn’t a very distinctive article of clothing, but the maroon color stood out enough that Vila had hope. Standing on his toes, he thought he saw a flash of the right color some way down. He didn’t dare call Avon’s name and alert Avon to his presence, but stepped up his pace.

He saw the flash of maroon again and was almost positive it was Avon; that nose was identifiable from 200 paces. It looked like Avon had gone down a connecting side street—almost an alley. Trusting that the market area of the space port was built on a grid, Vila slipped down a parallel side street with the intent to cut Avon off. He kept jogging, guessing Avon would start slowing soon so as to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

Vila pushed past a few merchants and saw the side street where it connected with the alley Avon appeared to have run down—and there was Avon. He hadn’t spied Vila yet. He was too busy acting nonchalant, ignoring the people he passed absently, like he wasn’t running away from his life. 

Vila clenched his teeth, stalked forward, grabbed Avon’s shirt and shoved him against the nearby alley wall before Avon even realized he had been found.

“The hell are you doing, Avon?” Vila growled. He pressed his weight into Avon to hold him in place, but it wasn’t needed. Vila had expected resistance from Avon, and anger at being caught, but there was none. 

Avon was complacent, almost like he’d been waiting for Vila to catch him. “You don’t want to be burdened with the likes of me.”

“What about me?” Vila cried. Avon wasn’t resisting, but Vila shoved into him again anyway, needing to channel his anger somewhere. It wasn’t rough enough to hurt, but it felt good to expend some of his frustration. “Don’t _I_ get a choice?” 

That wiped the hollow look off Avon’s face. It was quickly replaced by a dark expression, something close to anger. “You came to that planet to kill me, Vila.” The light in the alley was dim and made shadows of Avon’s eyes. “Do not forget that. You did not come to free a condemned man, you came to kill him. You did not ask to have the responsibility of my welfare.”

“Didn’t I?” Vila countered. “When I didn’t pull that trigger and asked you to come with me, isn’t that exactly what I did?”

Finally, Avon struggled, trying once to throw Vila off. He was unsuccessful. “Perhaps I don’t want to be that sort of burden.” Avon twisted against. “Let me _go_ , Vila.” 

Vila grit his teeth and held his position, struggling to control his voice but unable to stop the pounding of his heart. “I stayed with you for four years, Avon.” He fixed his eyes on Avon’s. “They were four of the hardest years of my life, and that’s saying something considering the life I’ve led. But they were also four of the happiest, too. Do you know why?”

“Blake is not coming back,” Avon said, effectively cutting off his nostalgic rant. “You stayed because of Blake, and then you stayed because of the memory of Blake; of the hope that Blake would come back and fix everything that I had ruined. It cannot happen now.”

Vila let his anger keep him going. “I stayed for a lot reasons. Blake was just one of many. I stayed because I believed in what we were doing.”

Avon talked over him. “You stayed because you had nowhere else to go; because you were lonely and we tolerated you.” Avon did not couch his words at all. “You stayed because when you were with us, you were one of ‘Blake’s people,’ and without us your life would have been even more empty and meaningless. You stayed because you were too drunk and too stupid to leave.”

“You think I put up with the way Tarrant treated me because I was too stupid to leave? _Bayban the Butcher_ kidnapped me to pull a job for him, Avon! Second most wanted man in the galaxy, after Blake, he was. He wanted _my_ skills, not yours! I could have left then. I could have left anytime I wanted; teleported down to any planet. Been a lot safer than I did do, too. There’re a lot of jobs for a talented thief out there. Thought about leaving plenty of times.” 

“I did not realize you were that lazy.”

“Thought about it even more after Cally was--after Terminal. Would’ve been happier on Cygnus, compared some of those days on _Scorpio_.” Vila clenched his teeth, staring hard at Avon. “But I stayed because no one else did, Avon. I stayed because everyone else died on you, or left you, or betrayed you or were killed by you. I stayed because _you_ needed me to stay, and because I wanted you to.” Vila suddenly released Avon, stepping back as he did. “And you thanked me by almost putting me out an airlock.”

Unprepared, Avon had half slid down the wall at the sudden release before righting himself. Now, he fixed Vila with one of his more intense stares; the sort that, in the past, had lasted ages and used to make Vila’s toes curl in his shoes. “You’re a fool.” But Avon’s tone, changed now from just moments ago, made the words sound almost affectionate.

The harshness might have faded from Avon’s eyes, but Vila knew it was lurking just under the surface. “So you can go if you want. Just don’t go because you think I want you to. I really don’t.”

In response, Avon came alive, reaching up to grab fistfuls of Vila’s shirt. He hauled Vila close enough that his breath washed over Vila when he spoke. “You realize your sentimentality is going to get you killed.”

Being this close to Avon filled Vila both with revulsion and longing. The two feelings were not a new combination. Avon had always appealed and disgusted him; sometimes the revulsion was even what drew Vila to him. “Yeah. I may be foolish, but I’m not stupid.” He studied Avon’s face up close. “But I think some risks are worth taking.” Despite his words, Vila didn’t feel very smart, but he hadn’t felt alive like this since that day on Gauda Prime.

“I do not want to be the one that gets you killed. Or kills you.”

Avon’s voice was rough. Vila looked down, wanting to see Avon’s eyes, but they were shadowy and fixed on Vila’s mouth. It sent a jolt through him, making his heart pound even harder. “You’ve thought I was dead these past six months,” Vila whispered. “What difference does that make now?”

Before Vila could even draw his next breath, Avon put all his weight into his arms and shoved off the wall. He didn’t release Vila’s shirt and before Vila could react, Avon pushed him up against the wall and crushed their mouths together.

Fire flooded Vila’s veins, and he kissed Avon back rough and eager. Vila had no illusions about this. Being kissed by Avon was a prerequisite to betrayal. He was momentarily going to be hit over the head, or pick pocketed, or find himself on the wrong end of his own blaster. That was what being kissed by Avon amounted to. But it was a price he was, at the moment, willing to pay. Before he was betrayed, Vila was going to enjoy the kiss.

To his surprise, it seemed so was Avon.

Real or not, the feel of Avon’s returned fervor was intoxicating. Vila’s hands shot up to grip Avon’s hips, aching to feel his body, long denied him, up against his. To his delight, Avon did not resist. He seemed almost frantic to press back into Vila. 

Avon was made up of a tightly coiled collection of bunched muscles and knots and not for the first time Vila wished he had the opportunity to relieve just a fraction of Avon’s tension. He gasped in surprise as Avon became more insistent, tilting Vila’s head as the kiss deepened. Then Avon brushed his tongue against Vila’s, and the intimacy of it nearly overrode Vila’s senses. 

It was just a kiss, and it shouldn’t have affected Vila as much as it did. But having Avon in his mouth was so much more than any fantasy Vila had ever imagined. As fierily as Vila had responded to the kiss, Avon was even stronger. The tongue in his mouth wasn’t seeking to distract Vila, it was desperate and needy and rough. It felt for all the world like Avon was getting as much out of this as Vila. Unable to help himself, Vila groaned and, surging forward, ground his hips against Avon’s.

The brazen move made Avon hiss and he pulled Vila’s lower lip between his teeth as he did. Avon shifted his hips away and then pushed Vila into the wall again, but he didn’t go back to the kiss. Releasing Vila’s lip, Avon pulled back slightly, his hands still gripping Vila’s shirt, his hips keeping Vila pinned in place. Avon was breathing heavily and the sight of moisture clinging to his mouth and the soft bruise left from crushing their mouths together was all Vila needed to remember this forever.

He waited for the final blow to come; to slip into unconsciousness; for Avon to leave him. It would be nice and neat. A kiss goodbye, and then Avon would be gone, forever. Not because Vila wanted him to go, but because Avon did.

But the blow didn’t come, nor did darkness, and Avon was still standing against him, still breathing heavily, undeniably every bit as aroused as Vila.

It took only seconds for Vila to realize Avon had frozen himself into inaction. His want was warring with his self imposed solitude and without Vila encouraging him on, Avon could neither follow through nor pull away. Avon wasn’t biding his time, planning to hurt Vila; on the contrary, he wanted Vila so badly he was, for once, unable to pull away.

Vila exhaled as relief and affection flooded him. 

Avon’s entire body trembled with want, and Vila felt he was burning brightly enough to see. But although he ached to pull Avon into his arms and sooth away his own worries by soothing away Avon’s, he didn’t want to do it here, in a dirty alley in a seedy space port like two homeless criminals.

Which was, Vila realized, exactly what they were. He laughed throatily. 

Not sharing Vila’s thoughts, Avon was not pleased at the laughter. “A joke, I see.” A choice had been made, and Avon’s voice was ice again. He released Vila instantly, stepping away from him with obvious difficulty. 

Vila was too overwhelmed to play games anymore. His heart was too heavy, and too full, to be angry or elated. He took it as it came. “Not a joke, Avon.” He longed to push the fringe off Avon’s brow and watch his eyes close in pleasure. His body, still thrumming from the kiss, approved of the idea. Aware he was setting himself up for inevitable hurt, Vila wiped the smile off his face. “Just morbidly funny,” he said, “what it took to finally bring you to that.”

Avon’s eyes were on Vila’s mouth again, and for a just moment, Vila thought he looked young and lost, but it didn’t last. “It was quite a price to pay,” he practically snarled. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Avon turned and stalked away.

Frustrated in more ways than one, Vila pushed off the wall and, with some effort, followed Avon. He wasn’t dead and he wasn’t unconscious. Avon had just passionately kissed him—there was no other way to describe it—and seemed offended by Vila’s perceived rejection. He’d have to be tied up and drugged before he let Avon out of his sights again.

“You said you wanted a bath,” Vila began, catching up. 

Avon glared at him, but didn’t stop walking.

Vila shook his head. “I don’t . . . I don’t mean like that. I just mean, you’re not going to be able to afford that if you stalk off, are you? At least not right away. You need a bath and three square meals and a big bed you can get twelve hours of sleep in.” He caught Avon by the arm and was grateful when Avon didn’t knock him to the ground for it. “I don’t . . . Look, I don’t expect anything from you. You’re not my responsibility. But I didn’t go to all the trouble of springing you from jail just to have you stalk off on me. And, well, I’ll be damned if I just let you leave after . . . after . . . _that_.”

“That was a mistake.”

Despite having braced for it, it felt like Avon had poured ice over him. Vila drew up short. “Of course.”

“It will not happen again.”

Vila found another smile. 

Now they were negotiating. This would work out in his favor, if he could just remember how to play along. He knew quite well how useless Avon’s ‘never again’ statements were. Usually. “Of course. Just a hot meal and a bath. Maybe a change of clothes. Nice to see you out of the black and leather for once, you know.” He phrased his words carefully, so Avon never had to actually _agree_ to any of it. As a result, Avon went along with him, following wordlessly. He didn’t stop stalking, but Vila kept pace with him.

They got protein filled hot buns and roasted corn at one of the vendor kiosks that was actually selling produce. Vila paid in untraceable ven, just to be on the safe side, and kept up a steady, mindless chatter as he slowly wove a path back to the hotel he’d originally intended to stay at. It wasn’t easy to keep his mind off the way Avon had clutched his shirt or the way his mouth had tasted, especially not with Avon moodily stalking along beside him, but Vila did his best. The little heart palpations he got when his mind wandered back on the memory were far from unpleasant, at least.

As they neared the hotel again, Vila veered off to a store that was selling clothing that looked as though they’d appeal to Avon. It was a tourist selection, but Avon could only wear that maroon tunic for so long. Though Avon seemed largely uninterested in the items, Vila got a few that Avon seemed less offended by, along with some night clothes and other necessities. It felt more than a little strange to be shopping with Avon, but compared to the rest of the week, Vila imagined this sort of ridiculousness was fast going to become par norm.

This time, when Vila booked them a room, Avon did not slip away. 

The suite in question was spacious enough for two men to inhabit for some time without feeling boxed in. There were two double beds that filled most of the main room, but a secondary room housed a couch and two armchairs, along with a small kitchen area and table. The en suite toilet was large and clean and there was a deep bathtub and attached shower. It wasn’t a proper flat by any means, but it certainly was bigger and more luxurious than the _Magdalena_.

Vila carried the bags of purchases into the room, setting them down atop the bureau filling a third of the entrance corridor. He felt Avon’s presence behind him and the hairs along his neck prickled to attention. It was that mixture of fear and attraction again, and he held his breath until Avon glided past him, further into the room. 

Vila pulled the shirts he had bought Avon out of the bag and began to unpack them into the drawer. “You can use the bath first, if you’d like,” Vila said, to fill the silence. The prickling coursing along his back did not subside and when he dared to glance over, he found Avon staring at him.

He held Avon’s gaze, his body tensing, and wished he could read the thoughts behind those dark eyes. Then Avon was stalking toward him, his long, measured strides closing the distance between them in seconds. The bag of clothes spilled to the floor as Avon caught Vila by the shoulder and pushed him up against the opposite wall in one fluid move. There was no time for thought, only action, and Vila instinctively reached up and dragged Avon’s mouth to his before he could back down.

This kiss was just as electrifying as the first; perhaps more so. Avon was no longer warring against himself. His hands were insistent now, gripping Vila’s hips to his just as fiercely as his mouth pressed into Vila’s. Vila kissed as good as he got, clutching at Avon’s broad back, but he seemed unable to think beyond the moment. That Avon could want him, like this, seemed so impossible. That he could still want Avon, despite everything Avon had done, seemed even more so.

Then Avon’s left hand encountered the holster on Vila’s right hip and Avon broke the kiss, fingers gliding over the surface of the metal before effortlessly drawing the blaster.

Vila’s heart tightened at the action and he clenched his teeth. He had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Avon hadn’t taken him out in the alley because it hadn’t been profitable. Now, in the safety of the hotel room, he could incapacitate Vila and then leisurely pick his pockets dry and have a place to stay after. He could probably even force access to the _Magdalena_. Vila swallowed down the hurt and rising despair.

“You won’t need this for a while, I don’t think.” Avon’s voice was cool and did not reflect the passion that had been in his kiss. His eyes were fixed on Vila’s and they didn’t pull away as he leaned back and very deliberately set the blaster down on top of the bureau.

Relief flooded through Vila and he forced himself to breath. Avon hadn’t turned on him; they were still negotiating. Avon still perceived him as a threat, and rightly so. If Vila could bring himself to trust Avon, Avon could bring himself to trust Vila. 

Vila didn’t say anything, but something in his face must have convinced Avon things were on the level, for he returned, this time tugging at the waistband of Vila’s trousers. Their eyes were still locked, but that didn’t hinder Avon’s hands. He pulled out Vila’s shirt, then roughly unfastened Vila’s trousers and worked them down around his hips. Vila drew in a rough breath, and it wasn’t until Avon actually dropped to his knees that he let it out. 

Avon held the gaze even as he lowered himself and continued to hold it for quite some time before very calmly blinking and redirecting his attention to the hardening shape now beginning to strain Vila’s pants. Swallowing hard, Vila pressed his back against the wall in anticipation. Freed from Avon’s penetrating eyes, he swallowed hard and tried to get his brain to reengage. Avon on his knees before him took some getting used to.

Still, it was a sight he didn’t want to miss and after taking a second to compose himself Vila looked back down. As if sensing he had Vila’s attention again, Avon moved closer. From this angle, Vila could only see the line of Avon’s nose and those expressive eyebrows, but it was more than enough to add to his already growing need. Avon hadn’t touched him yet and Vila already felt like his skin was on fire.

“Avon,” Vila rasped. To his surprise, Avon looked up.

“You had something to say?”

Having those eyes on him again coiled something tight in his stomach and made his cock twitch. “No.” He swallowed again, positively aching now. “No, I just.” He reached one hand out, not sure what to do with it, then let it drop. The rules were too fuzzy. He didn’t know if he could touch; if he could talk; if he could just stand there and let Avon look at him.

Trying to focus, Vila put his head against the wall, and that was when Avon mouthed his cock through his pants. It was just pressure and heat and Vila thought his knees were going to give way. Avon did it again, his lips defining the shape through the fabric as Vila swiftly grew to hardness. His entire body thrummed with restraint and he pressed his palms into the wall behind him to keep from burying his fingers in Avon’s hair and forcing him to go faster.

“You never were very patient,” Avon said before mouthing him again.

Vila struggled to hold on to his words. “That’s rich, coming from you.” 

That Avon had no comeback to that didn’t seem to matter as his mouth continued to press damp hot patterns against him.

“ _Avon_.”

“Mm?” Avon glanced up again, though this time he did not move his mouth away.

It was an intoxicating sight. “You’re enjoying torturing me, aren’t you?”

A smile ticked at the corner of Avon’s mouth. “Possibly.” He pressed his mouth against Vila’s bare thigh this time, not quite a kiss but close and intimate enough Vila probably could have come then and there if he had let himself. Avon reached a hand up and tapped Vila’s pants. “Take these off.”

Exhaling in relief, Vila promptly did so, sighing as his freed cock buoyed under its own weight. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I was hoping you would.”

Vila was about to suggest they take this to the bed before he lost his balance completely, but Avon moved back in, his mouth now at the junction where Vila’s thigh met his cock. It was maddening heat and softness and left Vila keening for more. Avon’s nose traced a line from the base up for about two inches, his mouth following, hovering, leaving a trail of hot breath along the side. Vila was torn between laughing at the absurdity of it and shuddering in delight.

He wanted nothing so much as to delve into that taunting, hot mouth; to see _Avon_ swallowing around him, but he did not want to rush this, either. Rocking back on his heels, Vila jutted his hips forward more prominently, displaying his need effectively without requiring more words. Avon’s mouth ghosted over the head of his cock, now dripping with pre-come, and then traced a hot path back down to the base without touching him. It sent ripples surging and clutching Vila’s stomach and his cock twitched anxiously, brushing once against Avon’s lower lip.

Avon gave an amused hum in the back of his throat, but still he did not put his lips around the head of Vila’s cock. Still he did not lathe his tongue over the aching skin. Still he did not touch Vila’s flesh. Some part of Vila knew this was all part of Avon’s negotiations, but he no longer knew which role he was meant to play. Was he to be strong and resist, or was he to give in to the pleasure? Should he demand or beg?

Soon, it wouldn’t matter at all. He was close to pushing Avon and his teasing aside and taking the matter into his own hands. It was Avon on his knees that finally made Vila pick his choice; he wouldn’t be in such a submissive role if he wanted Vila to be the passive one, would he? 

Pulling his hands off the wall, Vila bit his lower lip and combed his fingers through Avon’s hair. To his surprise, Avon gave a groan of approval and his eyes fluttered closed. It was all the encouragement Vila needed to know this was the right choice. His fingers tightened in Avon’s hair and no sooner had he tugged forward did Avon finally take Vila into his mouth.

Vila’s hold grew even stronger as he worked against the fiery desire to just shoot off right then and there. It wasn’t an easy one to control, especially as the harder he pulled Avon’s hair the harder Avon sucked him. By the time Vila felt he had any degree of control, his breathing was coming noisy and hard. He forced his eyes open to take in the sight of his cock disappearing into Avon’s yielding mouth and that sent another jolt of electricity through him. He loosened his iron grip on Avon’s hair and that in turn made Avon’s attack slow slightly.

Letting out a shuddery breath, Vila pressed back further into the wall, struggling not to roll his hips for fear of gagging Avon. One of Avon’s hands came up at long last, fingers closing around the too-sensitive skin. For a moment he let up with his mouth, long enough to allow his fingers to slide Vila’s foreskin back. Then the fingers wrapped around the length and Avon began working the base that his mouth could not attend. As mesmerizing as the sight was, Vila had to screw his eyes shut. He wanted this to last, wanted to sear the memory into his mind forever, and at the rate Avon was going, he’d be spent in another thirty seconds.

Maybe that was part of the negotiations too; maybe Avon wanted to see how fast he could bring Vila to orgasm. Having gone without a proper partner for as long as Vila had, it wasn’t going to take long, even trying to hold out. It had been at least two years since he’d had anything but his hand or a pleasure machine, and he hadn’t exactly lasted that long with Kerril, either.

His eyes flew open again and he looked back down at Avon, pushing thoughts of Keezarn out of his mind. He focused instead on Terminal and on the way Avon had summarily rejected his attempt at comfort on that cold, hostile world. Avon had been hurting more than any of them that day, but despite the aching loneliness in his eyes, he had resisted any compassion. Staring down at Avon now, Vila loosened his grip on Avon’s hair, forcing him to slow even more. Avon groaned deep in the back of his throat but obeyed.

As he sucked, Avon raised his eyes, looking at Vila as if seeking some kind of permission. Vila felt the tightness run through his chest, gripping his heart. He clenched his teeth and remembered that shuttle over Malodaar and the lies dipped in decaying sugar Avon had called to him, gun in hand. Vila gave a little cry, the drastically opposite sensations warring against him. His other hand gripped Avon’s shoulder, fingers digging into the flesh through the fabric of Avon’s tunic. Vila began to work his hips, thrusting into Avon’s mouth, delighting in the way Avon seemed to want just that.

He focused on the despair he had felt over Malodaar, letting the sheer grief and numb realization of what had almost come to pass wash over him. Those five minutes had burned themselves into Vila’s consciousness, tainting every memory of Avon before and since. Vila wanted to remember Avon threatening to kill him and the way his heart had shattered completely in that moment and overlap it with the way Avon was now desperately, eagerly trying to pleasing him. He needed to quantify the two Avons to accept them both. He could just focus on the Avon that was here and now to make this work, but he wanted to hold both this Avon and that Avon together to make this work _right_.

And it was working right.

Shuddering slightly, Vila felt his orgasm beginning to build in him and gave a low moan of approval, rocking his hips more insistently to encourage it. Avon matched his fervor, tongue aiding the hand and deft mouth, and it didn’t take long for Vila to tip over the edge, releasing into that tight, wet heat. He looked at Avon while he came, tremors coursing through his body. He memorized the sight and the feeling of Avon, on his knees, giving him pleasure. It wasn’t the most powerful or mind-blowing orgasm he had ever experienced, but it was the most profound. 

Avon held him in his mouth, drawing out one lingering tremor after another until Vila was satiated. Only then did Avon swallow and slowly pull back, releasing him. It left Vila out of breath and wanting so much more. Vila’s fingers were still tangled in Avon’s hair, and Avon looked up at him through his eyelashes. After a second, he slightly inclined his head and pressed his mouth against Vila’s bare wrist.

It wasn’t a kiss, but it was intimate enough that Vila instinctively withdrew his hand.

After several more seconds of staring, Avon’s expression, which had been strangely open—almost vulnerable— hardened. “What?”

Regretting not reassuring Avon immediately, Vila shook his head and reached for his pants. His breath had almost returned to normal. “Nothing. Just, bit unexpected, that.” He watched as, with difficulty, Avon got to his feet. It was obvious that erection as much as old knees were contributing to Avon’s slow ascent. “Strange, though.” He left it as a leading statement, studying Avon carefully.

Avon straightened, holding his pride around him like a shroud. “It was not out of pity.”

“No,” Vila agreed.

Avon’s eyes flashed. “Nor gratitude.”

Vila didn’t want Avon’s walls to come up any further, though he didn’t yet know the right words to say to keep them down. As long as it had taken them to reach this point, it was all happening too quickly now. He took a cautious step closer to Avon, hands reaching for the waistband of his trousers. He could, at least, speak the language of sex; to accept Avon with his body if not his words. “We’ve known each other a long time.” He began to very carefully unfasten Avon’s trousers, hardly daring to believe he could be so brazen. Avon stood stock-still. “People can change.”

Receiving no resistance, Vila gave the trousers a tug and Avon’s pants went down with them, allowing his already hardened cock to rise between them. Though it was rather average, Vila stared, drawn more by the fact that it was _Avon’s_ than by any other quality. It was hard to believe it was happening—no matter how thoroughly Vila had convinced himself that Avon was interested, there was nothing quite like seeing the flushed erection _he_ had given Avon. Eager to feel the heat of it, Vila reached out to touch him. 

Avon caught his wrist. “You were never capable, before,” Avon said, his voice low and rough. 

Vila fought down the sudden fear of rejection building in him, struggling to keep his voice light. “Think I was, actually. Had some practice at this sort of thing, you know. Even then.”

Avon bared his teeth in a way that might have been a smile on another man. How he could stand there so calmly with his erection listing between them, Vila couldn’t begin to guess. “We weren’t equal, before.” Avon swallowed thickly, the only sign he was distressed. “I could have killed you but you couldn’t have killed me. We were never equal, not like that.”

It was warped Avon Logic, but it made sense, in a way. It had never had anything to do with grade or intelligence; Avon had long ago realized they weren’t so far apart there. “Long time to wait,” Vila said, surprised how rough his voice sounded, “for just a little equality.”

Avon grimaced again and stepped close, so much so that his cock brushed Vila’s thigh. It made Avon gasp, low and hot, into Vila’s ear. It was making Vila ache in sympathetic need, and he was spent. “You also never died.” Avon pressed his brow into Vila’s shoulder and in the same moment finally dragged Vila’s hand to his cock, wrapping his fingers around Vila’s. He took a deep breath that shuddered right through him.

Avon’s hand held his fast, so he could only feel the hardness and the heat softly throbbing beneath his fingers. It made him focus on Avon’s words and the hot breath now washing over his neck as Avon stood against him. _He had never died_ ; he had never left Avon, either, not even after Malodaar. In the end, it seemed it had mattered after all. “Avon.” He didn’t know what to say.

“I should be in Hell.” Avon’s voice was muffled against Vila’s collar. “Miserable. In prison, at least.”

Despite the grip of Avon’s hand on his, holding him in place, Vila stroked him, pulling the foreskin over the tip and down again. Raising his other hand, he slipped his arm around Avon’s waist, holding him lightly. “Probably.” He spoke quietly, repeating his stroke, causing Avon to let out a deep, breathy groan. “But life has a way of being pretty unfair, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Mmm.” Avon pressed his face further into Vila’s shoulder. The hand he had on Vila’s hand was no longer restraining, merely resting on top. He had placed the other lightly on top Vila’s opposite arm.

It would be easy to bring Avon to pleasure like this, and Vila knew it. By the time he was done, he imagined Avon positively clinging to him to keep his balance. It wasn’t what he wanted though. More than just sex, like he’d always dreamed. “Go and lie on the bed,” Vila gently commanded, pulling back.

He wanted skin on skin. He wanted sweat and bodies touching. He wasn’t going to complicate things by giving it a name, but he was going to have more than just sex.

It took a moment for Avon to process the words. His dark eyes had grown darker still, his pupils dilated from his arousal. There were two double beds in the suite and Avon chose the nearest one, at first standing before it, considering. As if having read Vila’s mind, he began to undress, kicking off his shoes and trousers, before pulling off his shirt. Then he stretched out on the bed, on his back, finally looking at Vila.

Vila hadn’t moved. He’d watched the performance from where he stood, hardly daring to believe he had pulled away from Avon and ordered him to do something, let alone that Avon had obeyed without protest. At last he took several steps toward the bed, letting his eyes trail off Avon’s face, down his collar, over his bare chest and stomach to his hips and the cock that jutted anxiously upward, nearly touching his right thigh. After drinking in the sight, Vila pulled off his own tunic. He stepped out of his shoes and left his trousers and pants in a small pile on the floor.

Avon watched, motionless, as Vila knelt on the bed, closing the space between them. A silence had descended over the room, punctured only by the rougher breathing that Avon could no longer hide. With Vila looking but not touching, Avon’s cock gave a twitch and Vila reached down to stroke it. The effect on Avon was almost immediate: his eyes closed and his head fell back. The already rapid breathing stepped up a pace and his knees parted and lifted slightly. 

Moving into position on the bed, Vila didn’t let himself contemplate the wonderful things he’d do to Avon if he got another chance at this and could plan for it. Instead he knelt between Avon’s parted legs, put one hand on Avon’s hipbone and swallowed his cock.

Avon let out a strangled cry in response and instinctively bucked up. The hand Vila had on his thigh kept him pressed down on the bed, preventing Avon from accidentally choking him, and he continued swallowing, hard and deep and fast. He wanted to give it good to Avon; to make Avon regret wasting all those years before now; to make him realize this was worth it and to make him want it again. But he’d go a little too fast and make Avon come a little too soon on purpose. That way it would be even better next time. 

Though it had been a long time since he’d been with someone else, Vila could tell it had been far longer for Avon. It was hard to believe, really. Avon had always exuded a strange sort of sexual energy that Vila had never really understood. It was how he explained Meegat and Dayna’s initial interest, and Cally’s and Servalan’s and, well, his own. He half suspected even more of the crew had considered him, at least once or twice. But, as far as Vila knew, and as this was proving, Avon had never given in to anyone.

It was a strangely touching fact, especially if it all boiled down to loyalty to Anna. But he'd thought Anna was dead long before he’d met Vila, and to think that she had been the last one to touch him . . . 

Vila pulled off, swallowing thick against the saliva now coating his throat. 

Avon’s brows twisted as if in pain and then his eyes flew open. “Vila. Don’t stop, Vila.”

It might have made Vila laugh, but Avon meant it. He was distraught. This was Vila pulling a gun on him. If he were to get up and walk out on Avon now, it’d be crueler than shooting him. Vila instantly put his hand where his mouth had been, to reassure Avon that he wasn’t leaving. He just needed to look at him, to see his face twisted in pleasure and want _of him_. Possibly Vila needed this more than he had needed Avon pleasuring him. Somehow, it meant more.  
Avon’s eyes had half closed again at the touch. “Look at me,” Vila said.

Avon’s eyelids remained half-closed, but his gaze focused on Vila. His sallow skin was flushed, giving them life, and his lips were parted as he fought to keep his breathing under control. His hair had been tousled from earlier and bits of it clung now to the sweaty sheen of his brow. It was a sight Vila would forever remember. He only regretted that to finish he’d have to look away from all of this.

After a few seconds, Vila nodded. “We’re equal now, right?” They had shared a lifetime of grief and sorrow in four short years together, and there were things that had transpired Vila could never forgive. But he could start anew.

Avon was nodding.

His heart swelled and before he could say something foolish, Vila returned to Avon’s cock, kissing the length once before swallowing him again. Avon’s groan of relief rolled right through him. He felt the tension in Avon’s body as his orgasm began, and reached down to cup the warm sack that was beginning to tighten. Avon was not noisy, but the little gasps and moans that escaped told how he was feeling too well. 

One of Avon’s hands clutched the bedclothes fiercely and the other gripped Vila’s shoulder. Then he was coming, hard enough that his hips lifted off the bed. Breathing through his nose, Vila slipped his hand under Avon’s hips instead of pinning them and sucked him through his last shivering jerk. By the time Avon sagged back to the mattress, he was exhausted but satisfied. 

Vila slipped him out and sat back on his heels, catching his own breath while watching Avon writhe and gasp as he rode the last vestiges of his climax. When Avon had stilled enough, Vila finally did what he had been longing to do the moment Avon had stretched out on that bed. Starting at his hip, he placed a kiss. It was more than sex and he had not had the courage to do it before Avon was satiated and boneless. Now, he trailed a path of kisses, over Avon’s abdomen, up his chest and to his neck.

By the time he had reached Avon’s mouth, he was completely on top of him, and Avon had stilled and calmed his breathing. Vila was a little afraid to look at him as he finished placing the kiss by Avon’s ear, but he had come this far and he had found a glimmer of hope he had long since thought was extinguished. He looked up.

Avon caught his eye and held his gaze. Vila counted his heartbeats and when he reached forty-two, he leaned in and kissed Avon. It was a kiss simply to kiss. There was desire there, but passion wasn’t fueling it. He half expected Avon to let it linger a moment and then pull away. Instead, Avon reached up, tangling his fingers in Vila’s hair as he cupped the back of his head and returned it. It was a languid, smooth kiss. It was salty and hot and wonderful. 

When at last they broke apart, Vila dropped onto his side next to Avon, close enough that their bare thighs were touching. Lying side by side in post-coital bliss was something he had many times fantasized and long since dismissed as impossible.

Beside him, Avon stretched up, pillowing his arms beneath his head.

Now would come the sarcastic remark, Vila realized, where Avon would say _that_ would never happen again—until it did—or that it meant nothing, or was a mistake. At the very least, he expected Avon to tell him to go get into his own bed.

But Avon remained silent, staring up at the ceiling; and he had welcomed that last kiss.

Just as he was about to give up on trying to guess what Avon was thinking and settle down and try to sleep, Avon sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, presenting his back to Vila. “I’m going to bathe now.” He waited a second before standing and walked into the bathroom.

Vila watched him go, wanting and not daring to follow. Then he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling himself. He had so many thoughts jumbled in his head, he could only begin to imagine what things were like for Avon. This change wasn’t going to be easy for either of them, if it lasted. But it was a start. A promising start. It was very easily the best thing that had happened to Vila in years.

When Avon reemerged some time later, Vila took his place, soaking and enjoying the spacious tub. It was a pity they hadn’t shared it together, but that would have been too much, too soon. Perhaps another day. He didn’t take very long, but by the time he had finished and reemerged into the main room, he found Avon curled on his side, drawing the heavy deep breaths of one fast asleep.

It might have irked Vila if he hadn’t known what an accomplishment that was. Avon needed sleep more than anyone he had ever met. That he was resting peacefully now was perhaps the greatest compliment he could be given.

Not willing to press his luck, Vila pulled on a pair of loose pajama pants, turned out the light and put himself to bed in the second double bed.  
\--

Vila slept about an hour and woke up. 

It was because of Avon, though he was still sleeping quietly over in the other bed. Vila had long ago trained himself into the habit of waking up every hour or so when he was sharing a room. It was a self preservation tactic, and while he didn’t feel Avon was a threat to him at present, old habits died hard.

Usually, after assessing that there was no danger, Vila could easily get back to sleep. But tonight he lay there for some time, listening to Avon drawing breaths across the room, and tried to settle his mind. What would happen between them now? Had it been a mistake? Would Avon really change? Could he? And was Vila really prepared to accept him again, just like that? 

Quietly, Vila pushed back his covers and sat up. In the darkness, Avon was a motionless shape in the other bed. Their clothes were still scattered about the floor, a sure sign that Vila hadn’t imagined it all. His stomach still tightened at the memory of Avon’s mouth against his; Avon on his knees, pleasing him.

Standing, Vila crossed to the large window that overlooked the spaceport. The glass was tempered to the Earth standard hour and dark now in simulation of night. He slid onto the ledge there and watched in the distance as ships came and went from the visible docking bays.

They would have to ditch the _Magdalena_ , like Avon had suggested. Even should they start sharing a bed, the ship was just too small for them to both comfortably fit. Vila needed his own private space and he imagined so would Avon. 

Behind him, Avon made a noise in his sleep and rolled over. Vila glanced at him, but in the darkness he could make out very little. Beyond Avon, Vila could see the bags of clothes still scattered about the floor. The wane light that managed to get in through the tempered window reflected off his blaster, still resting atop the bureau. The glint of cold metal chilled him.

Avon had killed Blake. 

Would he ever be able to trust Avon with a gun again? Avon’s paranoia was the reason the rest of the others were dead. It wasn’t hard to pin the blame on him for Cally’s death, either; Vila knew Avon blamed himself, but that didn’t bring anyone back. Avon had killed or contributed to the deaths of people Vila had considered friends; Avon had once tried to kill him. It wasn’t the sort of thing he could forgive or forget.

But he could accept it as past, couldn’t he?

Avon made another noise and this time twisted in his sleep. The movement, though short lived, was prominent enough to draw Vila’s attention. He watched, unmoving, until Avon sounded again, flinging one arm to the side. It didn’t take more than that for Vila to realize one of Avon’s night terrors was coming on, and fast. Within a minute, Avon was gripped in a full blown nightmare, teeth bared against his dreamed horror. He thrashed until the sheets were twisted around his legs and a sheen of sweat stood out on his brow.

Vila had long known about Avon’s nightmares, everyone had, but he had never seen one in person before. Not like this. Avon had taken extreme measures to hide such things from the rest of the crew, especially when they had acquired _Scorpio_ with its single pressurized flight deck. Since the dream suppressants didn’t work, Avon took stims; he had just stopped sleeping. 

That couldn’t have helped his paranoia.

After a few minutes had passed and Avon showed no sign of throwing off his dream or waking from it, Vila left the windowsill and crossed the room to Avon’s bed. This wasn’t something he was going to be able to stand idly by and watch, night after night. It wasn’t something he was going to be able to ignore, either. Even if they didn’t share the same room in the future, he would know Avon was suffering these nightmares when he slept, or fighting insomnia.

Recalling his childhood—it seemed a lifetime ago—Vila sat on the edge of Avon’s bed and gently smoothed his fringe off his sweaty brow. He combed his fingers through the rest of Avon’s hair and made a quiet, hushing noise in an attempt to reassure him. He felt foolish, talking to a dreaming man, and feared Avon would awake and grow angry with him. Worse, he feared Avon would take him to be his dream-attacker and retaliate physically.

Neither happened.

After a minute, Avon stopped thrashing in the bed; the dreamed seemed to be subsiding. Avon’s eyes stopped rolled behind closed lids and before much longer he quieted completely. Vila stayed there, hardly daring to believe it had worked, until Avon’s breath returned to normal and stayed that way. Perhaps coincidence had just ended the dream to coincide with Vila’s touch, but he felt a strange sense of relief and protectiveness wash over him.

Avon would never be able to escape what he had done to their friends, either. It would always hang between them, like Star One and Control on Earth and Cygnus Alpha. It would always be there; the secrets and memories they shared together in silence. But what had once nearly torn them apart could also be the thing that kept them together. 

Vila untangled and rearranged the sheets before slipping under the covers beside Avon. They had come too far and suffered too long together to go their separate ways now. Avon was the only person in the universe who understood what he had been through, and the same was true in reverse. They were forever linked through their shared experiences.

Curling on his side, Vila watched Avon’s chest rise and fall and smiled to himself. It wouldn’t be perfect. With a man like Avon, it might not even be sane. None of Vila’s life had had been easy, and this would be no exception. But he wouldn’t be alone, any more. They’d be in it together at least, and there was happiness and hope to be found in there. Smiling, Vila closed his eyes and nestled closer to Avon. 

It was a risk worth taking.


End file.
